Cold revenge
by Higgy
Summary: Edward manages to annoy Oswald one too many times. Who will save him now?


Edward knows he's not a lucky man, has never been a lucky man and most likely will never be a lucky man. The ropes are cutting into his wrists slowly, grating through each layer of skin as he struggles.

The gag he's chewing on is biting into the corners of his lips something fierce and it is rather uncomfortable having to have your mouth held open constantly. The ropes tied around his wrists are annoying as well, slowly grinding and tearing away at his skin enough to leave red burns in their wake. He's stopped struggling for the moment and can't help but let what he deems to be an animalistic growl leap from his throat. "Let this be a lesson to you Nigma, no-one gets nothing for free off the Penguin!"

He glares in Ozzie's general direction and begins struggling anew. The ropes burn again and his legs flail pathetically as he tries to pull himself up the chain he's hanging from. Heights have never been a fear of his, but dangling ten metres above a frozen pool in Ozzie's hideout is slowly beginning to change his mind.

It's not like he was even bothering Ozzie anyway! He'll admit that technically he was on the Penguin's territory but he wasn't trying to do anything except plan his next trap for the batman. Ozzie's cackling laugh reaches his ears and he freezes. He's been a victim to the other rogues many a time, and at some point or another they've been his, but this time it feels different. There's always malice and jealousy between them all but the worst they've ever done to each other is a harsh beating, this feels like so much more.

Well Edward Nigma will not go down begging for mercy like some pathetic idiot. No. He was the Riddler for crying out loud, he deserved respect. "You know for someone who's meant to be a genius, you're thick as pig's shit when it comes to respecting other people's things." Meant to be a genius? Oh how he wishes looks could kill; Ozzie would be six-feet under and still going if they could. He is a genius, the best, and the smartest man in Gotham, possibly the world. If he weren't gagged he'd have the Penguin at his mercy by now. "Well no more. This will let everyone know just who's in charge of this town. Goodbye Nigma, it's been fun."

He struggles once again, feet kicking in the air and fingers grasping at the chain hopefully. Penguin's laugh is final and the fear he's been trying to hold back suddenly slams into him full force. The sudden drop is terrifying and short lived, leaving just enough time for the last thing he hears to be smashing glass and a frustrated shout from the Penguin.

The water hits him like a truck. It slams into his body on every side and though he knows it's impossible he can feel his body shrinking in on itself. He can't even feel the cold, even though it must be cold because there's ice for God's sake, but there's just pain. Small prickles of a thousand needles jabbing into his skin everywhere. He kicks at the water as much as he can, bound hands sluggishly pushing as his brain starts kicking into overdrive.

He's in roughly one thousand metres cubed of water, at temperatures around freezing, he's fallen about five metres, the gag doesn't allow him to close his mouth fully and bound as he is there's definitely no way he can reach the surface. Factoring in all those variables his body will start to shut down within the next two minutes, his brain will give up soon after if he's lucky enough not to have his lungs filled with water by then. Even if he does get out, being in temperatures this low for fifteen minutes can be fatal. He's not going to survive this.

Panic makes him think quicker and not necessarily of things that will save him. He's dimly aware that he can't feel his fingers anymore and something is tightening in on him. He feels confined suddenly and the short burst of fear that drives into him gives him the energy to struggle harder. He's too clever for this. Edward Nigma will not be beaten by a bit of water. Pushing doesn't seem to do anything and when did kicking become so hard? Glimpses of his chaffed wrists and the green sleeves of his jacket dash in front of his eyes.

He lets of the breath he's been holding and suddenly there's ice water in his mouth and he's gagging. Head thrashing back and forth as his mind, his wonderful, genius, stupid mind tells him that that is not the right thing to do. Very helpful. His throat's on fire and he knows that's weird because technically it should be cold. Frantically he looks up, hands grasping in front of his eyes for the surface as it starts to feel tighter around his chest. Whatever is closing in on him is doing it to his vision as well. It's getting dark in here, just around the edges for some reason. The ropes around his wrists bump against his waist as they fall deeper into the water, he can feel the water swell against the inside of his cheeks as his body tries desperately to breathe.

A suddenly blur of darkness splashes into the centre of his vision, leaving a thin strip to see through between the black edges and the smudge in the centre. The last thing he thinks he remembers seeing is a hand, but he is smart enough to know that's impossible. Then a sensation of pulling before everything cuts off.

He can't breathe. He knows how, he's sure he knows how. He's a genius he must know how to do something so basic, so human, so simple that even an infant can do it. Hands are wrenching him about, maneuvering him so he's laying over something but God if he knows what it is, he can barely work out how to gasp for air.

The smack in the middle of his back makes him open his eyes again. The darkness around the sides of his vision are gone now but all he can see is a shaky imitation of a floor covered in water and something that looks suspiciously like vomit. Another hard whack to the back makes him wretch violently and cough up something that makes him fully aware that yes that was vomit on the floor, his vomit to be precise. He felt water and bile dribble down his chin and for the life of him he couldn't remove his hands long enough from whatever they were grasping to wipe it away.

"Easy Nigma. You need to get it out of your system." He knows that voice; it's the voice that haunts his thoughts constantly.

"B-b-b-" The stammer is new, probably due to the all over shaking that he can't seem to make stop. His fingers grasp reflexively at whatever he's holding onto as his weakened body collapses forward, his chest digging into whatever he's leaning on to hold him up.

"Shh, don't try to talk. Just focus on breathing for now." A shaky nod is all he's able to give in reply as he follows the instructions. Breathing sounds like a very good idea, he knew the batman was almost as clever as he was. Gasping hurts but it's all he can do right now, his lungs feel tight and the burning sensation in his chest will not go away. Then his brain catches up with the signals his body is sending it and suddenly he realises he's freezing. The shaking isn't just from shock, he's shivering. Very violently.

When he can get his wits about him for more than a few seconds he takes in the exact situation he's in. He's currently draped over the batman's knee, soaking wet and wheezing for air as his rival holds him up and rubs his back. He doesn't quite know when the hard smacks morphed into comforting circles but it's certainly helping him calm his breathing and focus on everything but the freezing cold he's feeling.

Everything feels muffled in his head as his body trembles incessantly. He knows it's strange that he's allowing this contact, this comfort from his worst enemy but right now it's just nice to be assured that he's still alive. His breathing still hitches every so often but it's slowly getting easier. The hand that's not rubbing his back slides under his chest and begins to pull him upright, it shouldn't be this difficult to get his body to respond but the shivering makes it harder.

"Come on, we need to get you somewhere warm." Batman growls into his ear, as he's pulled to his feet. He stumbles into Batman and there's an arm around his waist to steady him. Both of his feet clatter over each other as he stands, shivers making his teeth rattle inside his jaw. "Nigma, move."

His body seems to have involuntarily moved closer to the other man's, and he's suddenly very aware that the thing he's been clutching is Batman's cape. It remains woven between his fingers as the larger man begins steering them away from the pool. It's slow progress with Edward's shaking and feet not listening to his brain anymore, but eventually they're outside. The sudden onslaught of the wind makes him flinch and his body curls closer to Batman's in retaliation.

"C-co," he chokes and feels his forehead nudge at Batman's chin, "co-cold."

Baman's hand nudges at a button on that utility belt of his before reaching up to start undoing Riddler's tie. He glances down confused at the gloved fingers as they slide the tie from around his neck and then begin to push down the shoulders of his jacket. "I know." His fingers are gently pried from the cape so the sleeves of his jacket can be pulled away. Edward thinks he must look like an idiot as his eyes meet his enemy's in confusion. "This wet clothing will only make you colder." Oh. Why didn't he think of that? "When you're body is back to it's normal temperature you'll start feeling more like yourself."

He nods, or shakes violently in an assumption of a nod. There's a roaring noise in his ears that's getting closer and hurting his head. Before he knows it the batmobile has appeared beside them and the doors are lifting. A weight settles upon his shoulders and he feels the cape draped over him and wrapped around the front. It's strange to say the least. His groggy mind cannot even work out what his feet are meant to do let alone why his worst enemy is helping him so much. As he's steered into the batmobile and buckled in by Batman, he decides he doesn't care. It certainly makes a change from all the punches in the face. Heaters are turned to blast hot air towards him and his body instinctively curls into the cape more to help with the warming process.

Slowly, very slowly he begins to feel more aware of everything. They're driving at quite a speed, houses flying past as they head on to wherever their destination is. His feet are not quite as numb and he manages to wriggle them free of his shoes to drag them onto the seat with him, helping them warm up with the car heaters. He wonders why Batman isn't cold. He must have been in the water at some point to drag him out, so why wasn't he shivering like he has been since? He assumes it's the suit and goes back to rubbing his fingers in the cape's fabric.

"Th-thirty five."

"What?" Batman is watching him now, confusion evident despite the cowl covering half his features.

"Thirty f-five. Thirty five deg-degrees centigr-grade. R-required temperature f-f-for metabolism." He leans his head back against the headrest and shuts his eyes. It's certainly getting warmer in here and more comfortable. "Anything l-less is hyp-hyp-hypothermic." He pulls the cape tighter and settles himself in for the journey.

"Good to know you're feeling better." He hums in agreement and feels the car turn. "But you can't fall asleep yet Nigma. Not until we're sure you're not going to get worse. You can sleep after we've checked you over." The hum this time is not in agreement but annoyance. "Talk to me, it'll keep you awake and I know you enjoy it."

He opens his eyes and can't help the small smile that flickers in the corner of his mouth. He's starting to feel better already.


End file.
